Desecration Smile
by focaccia
Summary: The story of a boy, a girl, and their path to try to erase the six words that will shape their destinies forever. Love the feeling when it falls apart. Quick to finish, but slow to start. E&B, M for lemons, language.
1. The First Six Words

_"You're such a great friend, Bella."_

__The moment I heard those words- drunken, laughing words rendered almost unintelligible by a heavy tongue and heavier eyes- I suddenly understood what it meant to have your heart broken. Every story, song, movie, book that I had come across that detailed the feeling of having having your fragile heart ripped straight out of your chest and stomped on suddenly made perfect sense to me. And with six short words, followed immediately with a loud snore that indicated that Edward Cullen had fallen asleep, I gave up on the boy that I had dedicated all fifteen years of my life to loving in secret. I was surprised by how easy it was to abandon such a deep-seeded infatuation, how clean the break was. No fragmentation, his mother, a doctor who had eventually grown tired with her family and would soon walk out not five years after my revelation, would have said. No splinters. No need for surgery. A remarkably clean break. Marvellous.

I thought it had been, then. I foolishly assumed that once I had made the message clear that Edward was no longer welcome in my life, he would take the hint and leave. Edward, for all his virtues, lacked that of patience. And of understanding. These were characteristics that had identified him even when we had been children playing in our sandboxes, when Emmett still spoke to him and loved him and cherished him. It shouldn't have surprised me that he returned from Harvard Business school with a fiery look in his eye and a job offer for me. It shouldn't have surprised me that Carlisle chose Edward, by then groomed for what his father would place upon his shoulders, bypassed Emmett and handed over control of Cullen Industries to his second-born, creating a rift that I doubted would ever heal. Emmett's absence at his father's funeral two years later cemented the rift, causing even deeper fissures in what had seemed to be an indestructible family unit.

I don't remember Carlisle's funeral- I remember tears and holding onto Esme's shoulder while standing beside Edward, who's face was too lined and set in stone for a man of only 28. Even then, he had looked older beyond his years, hard and impenetrable and painfully beautiful in his black Armani suit and gold Rolex, his green-gold eyes fastened on the carved white casket as it was lowered into the ground. I remember that it rained, which in itself was not a surprise in Seattle. It always rained. But while every other mourner, even the devoted and devastated Esme, sought shelter inside the magnificent cathedral from the raging storm, Edward remained, his hard face unchanged by the slapping wind, with a continuous stream of rain flowing off the line of his straight, proud nose. I do remember running back from inside the gilt and dappled inside of the cathedral, running and running across the soggy, mud-soaked patch of grass and ignoring the mud that was splashing itself up my bare legs and onto the skirt of my black Roland Mouret dress. I did what I had not done in years that day. I pulled the boy I had once loved so passionately into my arms and held him as he wept, and as he finished, letting the rain wash away any trace of his tears, he whispered again the same words that had so damaged me six years ago.

* * *

"I have a situation I need you to take care of," Edward Cullen told me while discretely adjusting his monogrammed gold and diamond cufflinks. He lowered his head slightly, his shock of dark bronze hair the only uncontrollable thing about his appearance. The rest of him- the black silk Dior Homme suit, the carefully shaved jaw, the flinty emerald eyes- was the picture of control, success, heartlessness. All things, I thought, he embodied rather well. His full lips barely moved as he kept his eyes locked on the boardroom door, awaiting today's potential clients. "Aria was still at the apartment when I left. Make sure she's taken care of."

I tried to keep the grimace from my face as I watched the Chinese delegates from Shang International, the country's largest energy magnate, begin filing into the immaculate, glass-paneled boardroom at the top floor of Cullen Tower. The executives looked mightily unimpressed with the absolutely stunning view of the New York skyline that the top floor offered, but Edward managed to shift his features into a believable smile and offered his hand to the wizened, but still sleek, executives, baring his veneers in what I assumed to be a facsimile of a smile. I felt, as I always did, their eyes leave Edward and focus on me. I gritted my teeth as I smiled and shook their hands, ignoring their roving eyes and curious expressions. It was part of my purpose, part of the reason why every time Edward wanted to dazzle a foreign party, every time he wanted a particular deal signed in his favour, he had me at his side. As he had told me matter-of-factly three years ago: "They're too busy imagining fucking you to read the details too closely."

Edward was never a man for compliments, but I saw something like satisfaction cross his features as he watched one executive miss his mouth with his water glass as he stared at me while Edward introduced his own party. I let my mind wander as I observed the endless handshakes, the slight bows. My scarlet dress was much too tight- I couldn't breathe. The impossibly high nude stilettos, the carefully-styled hair, the dark red lips... All of it was designed for one purpose, and apparently, it was working. Edward was full-blown smirking as he finally introduced me, last, as always.

"And finally, this is Isabella Swan, my chief of staff," He said, which I appreciated. I knew the more honest term for what I did was 'personal assistant' at best and 'professional shit picker-upper' at worst. I gave a small smile and courteously shook the eager hands, kneeling a little bit to make up for the height difference. I was 5'9" without the ridiculous cartoon stilettos, and with them, I stood perhaps an inch shorter than Edward, who towered over everyone else with his 6'2" frame, which retained the leonine grace and long lines of its adolescence, despite Edward's age. Edward gave me a small nod, and I slipped away out the glass door to make the call. As was expected, Felix answered in one ring.

"Hey baby, what's up?"

"Felix, has Edward's lady friend been taken care of?" I asked in a low voice, and I heard Edward's head of security chuckle.

"The tall, honeyed lingerie model from Dubai with the tight ass and long as fuck legs?"

"Aria, yes," I said tersely, and Felix chuckled again.

"From what she was saying, apparently she was taken care of real nicely by Edward last night-"

"I swear to fucking God, Felix-"

"Relax, baby doll, Laurent drove her to JFK at around ten this morning. She has a photo shoot in St. Barts tomorrow," Felix cackled while I pinched my nose. "How's it going today?"

"Oh, great," I muttered sarcastically as I hauled ass to the impressive steel and glass-plated bathroom at the end of the plush hall. I locked the door and stared at my reflection in the enormous mirror. "Excellent. He'll be home around ten tonight."

"I'll have everything ready. Have a good day, baby," I rolled my eyes at Felix's nicknames for me. He always called me "baby" or "baby doll" or "sweetheart" or "princess" or some other nauseating nickname whenever Edward wasn't around. He did it for the sheer pleasure of watching me blow up at him, but had gotten himself in a bit of a mess when Edward had heard him calling me "baby doll" last month and had nearly went thermonuclear war on him.

I washed my hands slowly in the marble sink, delaying for as long as possible the moment when I would eventually have to return to the meeting. As I dried my hands, I carefully studied my reflection in the mirror, ignoring whatever could have been nice about it and searching, as I knew Edward would, for the flaws. Any wrinkle or stain or crease on my dress that would bring a frown faster to his face than anything else, or a smudge in my scarlet lipstick or my front teeth stained from their usual blinding white to a dull red by the dramatic lipstick. There was nothing I could find that would draw his ire, although Edward's eyes, sharper and more critical than my own, always found something to reprimand me on, no matter how small. Sighing, I turned away from my reflection and headed back to the room, concentrating on not tripping over the shoes. Outside the door, Angela, Edward's long-suffering secretary and perhaps the only woman in all of Cullen Industries who had it as bad as I did, flashed me a sympathetic smile before ushering me in.

I ignored every head turning in my direction as I crossed the floor and took my rightful spot on Edward's right, settling in the chair and smoothing my hair all at once. It appeared that today's meeting was an exceptionally short one, and my duties were finished as I handed over the $40 000 diamond-encrusted Mont Blanc pen over to the hand of each executive as they signed the thick contract, barely taking their eyes off of my face while they scrawled their names. Edward looked so smug I thought he would pop if I poked him with a pen as he ushered out the executives, bowing respectfully. As soon as the last delegate was out the door, the four of us in the room exhaled and allowed our postures to slouch. Jacob Black, the only man in finance that Edward trusted, rushed over and gave me a high-five and a tight hug, crushing me against his spotless D&G suit.

"Fuck, that went so much better than it should have," Michael Newton, the second-in-command at Weinstein&Benning, our chosen accounting company, announced loudly as he drained a finger of brandy in one go. His carefully gelled-back blonde hair loosened as he fist-pumped.

"It was because Sun was too busy staring after you to focus on what the fuck he just signed," Jacob emphasized, throwing his arm around my shoulders. Edward's lips thinned imperceptibly as I laughed and slapped Jacob's impressively ridged stomach. "He told Edward you were 'impossibly lovely'."

"He's right," Michael piped up, and I rolled my eyes as I began packing up the bits of loose paper that had been left behind. "You look so-"

"Has my matter been dealt with?" Edward called from the door of the board room, and I sighed as I left everything I had been cleaning up to join him at his side. It was one of the unspoken rules of this job- when Edward Cullen decided it was time to go, it was time to go. Edward repeated the question as he held open the door for me as we began walking at a fast clip down the hall.

"Yes. Your... matter," I said delicately as we pushed the door open to the elevator and pressed the button for the floor of his private office. "Has been dealt with with utmost discretion. She's on a flight to the Caribbean as we speak."

"Good," Edward nodded as we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, staring at the blinking elevator buttons as they pinged out the numbers of the floors. "What's the itinerary for today?"

"You have a three hour block left free until the meeting with EnCor representatives at three PM," I told him. "Seeing as how the Chinese deal was swept so well-"

"And then?" Edward asked with a hint of impatience as we reached our floor and began our impossibly fast clip to the double doors of his office again. I gave a brief nod to Angela, whom Edward completely ignored.

"You have reports due from the Marketing sector by 6 PM this evening, and then," I checked the iPad again. "A dinner date with Tanya at 7:30 PM at the Gotham Cafe."

"Cancel it."

"I can't," I replied, and Edward grit his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She threatened you with chemical castration should you cancel on her again."

"Very well," Edward took a deep breath as he leaned against the edge of his massive, intimidating oak desk. It was the only piece of furniture in his office (and his penthouse) that was not a strange glass and steel contraption. Coincidentally, it was the only piece of furniture that Edward owned that I didn't loathe. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and ran a hand through his hair, obviously irritated. I stood, waiting for his abrupt dismissal so that I could finally be free to return to my desk and try to organize the shit storm that Edward inevitably left behind him at every turn. Instead, he looked up at me and surveyed me with an intensity that made even the most hardened government officials bend to his will. He licked his lips before he spoke. "Come to lunch with me."

"I can't," I replied again, and Edward's nostrils flared, a warning sign. But with no one else in the room, his commanding superiority was rendered a little useless. It's hard to be intimidating when the person you're trying to intimidate has nursed you back from a teenage hangover countless times while keeping it a secret from your parents, and Edward knew this. To be truthful, it was the brief moments of vulnerability that Edward allowed when it was just us, the moments that reminded me that he wasn't a ruthless automaton businessman but had once been my very best friend (and the subject of the majority of my childhood fantasies) that kept me from walking out on him.

"Why not? You haven't got anything planned," Edward said, and I avoided his eyes as I drew up his schedule for tomorrow on my iPad. "Bella-"

"I'm busy," I said tersely. He raised a thick eyebrow sceptically, and I wanted to smack the _"Oh, Really?" _smirk right off his stupidly handsome face. I raised my head higher. "I have a date."

"Really?" Edward looked nothing short of amused now as he leaned back on his desk, and my face burned scarlet to match the rest of my stupid attire as I crossed my arms too, wanting to punch him now. "_You?_ You have a date?"

"You know, Edward, just because you see me as some sort of walking, talking Rolodex who can distract the people you want to manipulate by wearing a tight dress doesn't mean that everyone else on this planet does," I said through extremely gritted teeth. Edward's smirk deepened. I wouldn't let him see how much his surprise hurt me. I knew he was being playful, teasing me, but it still cut deep a wound I thought I had healed a long time ago.

"I apologize, Swan,"He said abruptly. "That was inappropriate. In any case, I'll see you at 3PM on the 30th floor. Don't be late."

He waved a hand in dismissal, and I spun on my heel, too hurt and angry to even formulate a response. I didn't pause to speak to Angela on the way out, instead grabbing my long white fur coat and pulling it on as I hurried to make the most of the only three hours of peace I would get for the whole day. Even my dreams were interrupted with thoughts of Edward, with thoughts of either killing him or kissing him. Because as Jessica Stanley, the office girl who worked on the fourth floor who's purpose was a mystery to everyone, had put it: Edward Anthony Cullen was an asshole of the first order, but you wouldn't kick him out of bed for it.

If only she knew the half of it.

The three hours went by faster than I wanted them to. So, I had lied a tiny bit. I didn't exactly have a 'date' in the traditional sense. More of an urgent appointment with the dentist that I had put off. But I didn't want my boss's sympathy, especially when I was the one who was confronted full-on with the evidence that he had multiple... dentist appointments... every week. No, I didn't need him thinking I was some nose-picking, career-obsessed loser who's social life consisted solely of collapsing on her couch every night in a plush onesie and finishing off whole bottles of $300 wine. No, that would not be good. So every week, I requested to leave early on Friday nights, which Edward so graciously allowed me. It gave me extra time to demolish a whole pepperoni pizza before passing out drunk on my couch with tomato sauce on my face.

I was on the 30th floor at exactly 2:50 PM, and was greeted by an impatient Edward, who looked brooding and moody and beautiful as ever. He seemed especially terse, snapping at a poor staff member who had the misfortune to be caught in his path as he paced.

"How was your date?" He purred, and I stopped and stared defiantly up at his glowering, beautiful face. _You are so beautiful_, I thought momentarily before wiping my face clean.

"Satisfying," I said, because it wasn't a lie. My teeth had never been cleaner. Edward gave a sharp nod before unexpectedly latching his hand around my waist and pulling me close to him. I knew that to everyone else in the room arranging note pads and pens and coffee, it would look nothing out of the usual. I was the only person allowed this close to Edward, and it wasn't uncommon to see us bent forehead-to-forehead discussing something. But it had never been like this before. I could smell his heady cologne- _Bleu de Chanel_- and the smoke of the Parliaments he smoked on his breath as he pulled me almost uncomfortably close and whispered harshly in my ear.

"I could have made it so much more... satisfying," He gave a harsh nip on the shell of my ear before casually straightening and dusting off nonexistent particles on his immaculate suit jacket. I was surprised by how calm I was on the outside, because I was trembling violently on the inside and felt on the verge of collapse by his sudden approach. He casually looked at the schedule for tomorrow. "Rosalie Hale is coming into New York City tomorrow with her brother, Jasper." I nodded, thankful that he changed the subject from his outburst, which I could tell Edward was now regretting. Business. This, I could focus on. The Hale twins were the recent heirs to their father's multi-billion mutual trust and were seeking to invest in blue chip stock. Cullen International's stock had been blue chip before any of us had been born, and we were all anticipating a major cash pump if we didn't fuck up the meeting too badly. It seemed an almost impossible task. Though I had never met Jasper Hale before, both he and his sister had been acquaintances of Edward's during his time at Harvard, and they were two of the very few people that Edward considered 'friends'.

"We're meeting at eight at Maxime's tomorrow evening," Edward informed me, and gave me a quick up and down before we heard the knocks on the door. I felt a familiar flush creep its way onto my cheeks. "Dress code is business casual."

And that was all he said before he gently pushed me aside, his hand alright ready to be shaken, to greet the EnCor representatives. As usual, I was left trying to convince myself that my decision at fifteen was still a binding one.

I was not attracted to Edward Cullen.

Edward Cullen was not attracted to me.

I would be his _great friend_.


	2. An Evening at Maxime's

"We're going to have to make a short stop first," Edward said from beside me, and I resisted the urge to smack him on the shoulder. I knew there was a reason why he had insisted on leaving Cullen Tower earlier than was actually necessary, and I immediately recognized the road his chauffer began to take. The tree-lined pathways, the gates, the sky-high but tasteful apartments- it all screamed inimitable wealth, and none more so than his building, Volterra. It gleamed, a monstrosity of steel and glass and Grecian-inspired architectural structure, like a behemoth on the skyline, and I grimaced as he graciously helped me out of the company car and offered me his arm. I refused it and staunchly headed up the gently sloping, carved marble steps and greeted his doorman. I was pissed.

I tried to avoid coming to Edward's place whenever possible. Of course, his family home in Seattle, which Esme now occupied with Emmett, was a different matter entirely. There, I was welcomed like a daughter and urged to stay longer than the actual prodigal son himself, who always found a reason to leave as quickly as possible. It made Esme sad, and it made me angry, but I could do nothing. I knew that Edward hated being in the same house as Emmett, loathed his brother's complete indifference to his younger sibling's existence. And if Edward was a master at nothing else, he was a master at avoiding the things he wanted to avoid.

While the Cullen family home on Lake Washington Boulevard felt like a haven, Edward's own personal penthouse, occupying the 60th floor of the Volterra building, made me nothing short of disgusted. It wasn't only the minimalist, modern architecture or his obnoxious 'conceptual' furniture that annoyed me. It was the knowledge that his immaculately made California King bed had played host to a bevvy of a beauties, girls that Edward forgot as soon as they had served their purpose to him. I hated that the girls that he had swept in last night and told me to sweep out the next morning had seen parts of him that I had only dreamed of, that they got to be with him while I berated myself for even considering touching Edward, of thinking of him as anything more than my boss and my once-friend.

So I didn't speak, in fear of showing my irritation, as the elevator climbed higher and higher, finally pinging to a stop on his floor. Edward gave a brief nod to Felix and ignored the sweeping kiss on my hand that his security man gave me. I giggled and kissed the top of Felix's bald head. I thought it was adorable that Felix, who bore a strong resemblance to Kerry King of Slayer, melted like a puppy dog around me. Edward, apparently, found it less amusing, as he gripped my upper arm in his iron grasp and practically dragged me into his stark white apartment, breathing through his nose.

I supposed that it could be considered nice. It was a marvel of architecture- sweeping, grand curves and sharp, perfect angles, white on white and chrome on chrome and everything hidden and kept away. Everything screamed of money, of status, of simplicity. I loathed it all. I supposed Edward would go into cardiac arrest if he saw my apartment, a hole in the wall a couple streets away from the Cullen Tower that was perpetually stuffed to bursting point with uneaten takeaway, clothes, makeup, my cats, and paperwork. Edward shrugged off his black Tom Ford blazer and tossed it casually on the sleek, black leather couch.

"I just need to change," Edward motioned down to his suit, which probably held an infinitesimal wrinkle that had caught his eye. "Feel free to make yourself at home. I'll be down in five minutes."

While he was gone, I stood and examined the only thing in his penthouse that I liked: The enormous, ceiling-to-floor, wall-to-wall shelving unit he had set up against the eastern wall that was stuffed, jammed, with rows and rows of albums. They were all alphabetized and organized by genre, of course, but it's freakish organization didn't keep me from appreciatively running my fingertips along the backs of what had to be thousands upon thousands of CDs, vinyls, and tapes. Edward was obsessed with his collection, and I could see why. From as early as I could remember, he had adored music created before his time. From Mozart to Led Zeppelin, from Morrissey to Pink Floyd, from Jimi Hendrix to Black Flag, they all crammed his apartment with the only sense of personality I got about the place. It was impossible not to be at least a little jealous of the collection's extraordinary size and depth.

"Are you ready?" I nearly jumped a foot when I heard his voice from behind me, and almost dropped the Soundgarden record I had been holding reverently between my hands. Edward looked amused as he buttoned up the top button of a silky black shirt that I hadn't seen before, watching as I placed the record back where it had been. He looked as he always looked- painfully and unattainably handsome. His hair was still as unruly as ever, but it looked slightly less outlandish when paired with his slightly more casual clothes. The black shirt, the dark dress pants, and the blazer were still in code with the business-casual dress code of Maxime's, but something about it (maybe the slightest hint of stubble gracing that sharp jawline?) made him look more relaxed.

"I suppose so," I said, but I couldn't help myself from pulling at the hem of my dress self-consciously. I had changed quickly at the office, thinking that we were going directly from there to the restaurant. The short black suede dress wasn't anything extraordinary, I supposed, but I had thought I looked presentable after adding a slick of pink lip-gloss and a more dramatic application of black eyeliner. "I mean, do I look-?"

"Don't ask me that," Edward said quietly as he watched me pull on my Burberry trench and pull the belt viciously, avoiding his eyes. "You always look nothing short of extraordinary."

I cleared my throat, embarrassed, as he reluctantly tore his eyes away from me to ring for the car. I avoided him, standing at the opposite end of the elevator, as we made the long journey earthbound and crossed the lobby at the same brisk pace we kept at the office. Edward opened the car door for me and entered shortly after. He lived perhaps a fifteen minute drive, traffic be forgiving, from the restaurant. Twilight was extraordinarily beautiful this time of year, with the fading touches of sun illuminating the golden autumn leaves a glorious, fiery glow. I sat, enraptured, thankful that my mind was free of Edward Cullen, if only temporarily.

"Why are you bringing me tonight?" I asked, finally voicing the question I had kept bottled up inside since he had told me last week that my presence at the dinner with the Hales was mandatory. Edward looked surprised, which was rare. "I mean, the deal is practically sealed-"

"You're my good luck charm," He pointed out. "I think you've overseen half the transactions of revenue for this company-"

"I doubt Rosalie Hale is going to want to sneak a peak at my tits before she signs the dotted line," I rolled my eyes as Edward smirked.

"You know, she was quite the adventurer back at Harvard-"

"Edward, I really don't want to know," I said as he let out a laugh. I let silence build a wall between us again. I found it almost inconceivable that I had told my deepest secrets to this man, that he had seen my first diaper change and had laughed and held me while Renee, my mother who had quite literally jumped the ship when I was seven, laughed and took our picture. How could the laughing green-eyed Adonis of my childhood have been transformed into… this?

"Am I keeping you from a date?" Edward pointed out as the car began to slow. With a jolt, I realized it was Friday night, the night usually reserved for my 'eat until you're unconscious' pizza binge. I shook my head deftly, and before I could even protest, Edward gripped my hand and pulled me out of the car, almost dragging me up the steps to Maxime's. I had dined here multiple times, once on the worst date of my life with a New York Rangers hockey player who kept missing his fork with his mouth because he was salivating over me, and the other times on company matters where I had spent the whole time trying to keep Edward from biting the other guy's head off. Nevertheless, I had always appreciated the simplistic elegance of this place, from its oak interior to its polished brass and flawless silverware and warm candles. It screamed of old money, of better times and of better people. I could immediately see why it was the choice of New York City's verified blue bloods, the people with confirmed ancestry to those on the Mayflower.

I saw Rosalie and Jasper Hale before they saw us. Rosalie was laughing with her brother, and even from a seated position, drawing heated stares and whispers. She was radiantly beautiful, a glowing blonde Aphrodite who was all curves and long limbs and blue eyes. To call her pretty was to be deemed an insult- she had the kind of beauty that robbed air and jumbled words. Her lean, cat-like frame was clad in a shell-colored dress that would have looked a little 'much' on anyone else, but looked perfected for her alone. It was a long while before I was able to tear my eyes from Rosalie to look at her brother.

Jasper Hale was just as beautiful as his sister, just as radiant and eye-catching and impossibly good-looking. Their faces were very similar, with the fine lines and sharp angles and hollows, but I thought that Jasper's looked kinder. His eyes were blue also, but they were a softer blue than the piercing azure of Rosalie's eyes, and looked grey from a distance. His blonde hair was worn longer than Edward's, and though he had made an attempt to slick it back, it now hung loose somewhere around his shoulders, cutting a sharp contrast to his flawless black suit that, like Rosalie's dress, looked created for him alone. The two of them drew every eye in a room filled with beautiful people, and if anyone's eyes hadn't been locked on our table before, as soon as Edward and I made ourselves known, they were now.

"Edward Cullen, goddamn," Jasper Hale spoke first, and I was taken aback by his strong Southern accent, though I knew both he and Rosalie had been schooled in the South before attending Harvard. From what I remembered, Rosalie had been a graduate of some prestigious academy in Georgia, while Jasper had attended some sort of military school in Texas and had been lined up for West Point before taking up Harvard instead. But while Jasper spoke to Edward and shook his hand, his eyes were locked on me. They were incredibly beautiful eyes, eyes that looked blue speckled with grey in one light and grey speckled with a blue haze in another. Up close, the planes and angles of his face, the marble of his flawless skin and the cut of his cheekbones and jaw, was dazzling. Though Edward was easily the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life, Jasper was-

"And this is Isabella Swan," Edward seemed to add reluctantly. I knew that Edward could not have missed that Jasper's eyes had stayed on me the whole time, but Edward sounded almost brusque as he turned to greet Rosalie, who had a softer accent than her brother's. Jasper's mouth curled up on the right into a small smile that illuminated everything beautiful in his face. Had a Greek statue come to life in front of me, it would be him.

"Isabella Swan," He took my trembling hand and let his lips brush gently across my knuckles. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"I- I could say the same," I managed, and I felt his smile widen against my hand as he finally looked up. I felt like I couldn't breathe. "I've heard so much about you."

"Do I live up to the expectations?" He asked as he straightened. Jasper kept a firm hold on my hand as he waited for my answer.

"Exceeded them, I'd say," Jasper let another brilliant smile cross his face as we sat. Rosalie nodded in my direction, but in all honesty seemed more interested in Edward than in me. Which I had no qualms about, because Jasper seemed to be very, very interested in me.

"So, Isabella-"

"Bella," I interrupted, and blushed. "The only people that call me Isabella are Edward and my parents."

"So, Bella," Jasper grinned. "Edward didn't mention his date would be so incredibly beautiful."

"You flatter her," Edward spoke sharply from beside me, and I felt myself burning with embarrassment. "Ms. Swan doesn't take kindly to excessive praise, as I've learned the hard way."

"I don't think it's excessive at all," Jasper replied smoothly, though the lines around his eyes tightened as he observed Edward coolly. I thought that maybe the talk of Edward being close to the Hales perhaps only applied to one Hale. "In fact, I'd say it's a gross understatement. To the point of insult."

"You would think that," Edward smirked bitterly before a waiter asking for drinks broke the tension. Rosalie ordered another glass of Perignon for herself, while Edward and I both opted for gin and tonics. Jasper ordered a glass of some extraordinarily rare bottle of wine that I had never heard of before. As soon as Edward began charming Rosalie again, Jasper turned to me.

"So how are you enjoying New York? I hear you're not from here?"

"I'm from Seattle," I said, and I felt extraordinarily proud of my little city. Any city that had been home to Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, and Chris Cornell, amongst countless others, deserved some sort of recognition. "Same as Edward. But I've been in New York since seventeen, so I guess it's been home for awhile."

"Did you come here for school?"

"Columbia," I nodded. "I have yet to get my degree, but I'm hoping… in the near future…"

"What was your major?"

"English," I replied, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable with revealing so much about myself. I had never bothered to tell my story, because everyone that had wanted to know it had known it since birth. Edward probably knew the events of my life better than I did, because he had borne witness to all of them. "I bet my life isn't half as exciting as yours."

Turns out, it wasn't. By the time our main courses arrived (some strange arrangement of poultry, meat, fish, and pasta that I was sure was ambrosia) I had learned that Jasper Hale had lived a very interesting life. He was 28, which surprised me. I had not expected him to be so close to my age. After rebelling all throughout his teens ("I barely fucking graduated from that academy"), he had chosen Harvard as a 'second choice' after he was told by a Senator that gaining admission into West Point was deemed impossible even with his familial connections. Apparently Jasper's love for cocaine and marijuana had disqualified him from the pool of potential candidates. After cleaning himself up, he had survived seven years at Harvard and had gained a highly coveted position at Bank of America before his father had died over the summer.

"I'm so sorry," I said as he stabbed a piece of fish with unwonted venom. Jasper shrugged.

"He went peacefully, and it wasn't exactly as if it was unexpected. Lung cancer doesn't exactly grab you by the balls and yell 'Surprise!'. We knew it was coming. We were all prepared," Jasper shrugged again, his face a play of shadows and angles in the flickering candlelight. I felt unexplainably uncomfortable as soon as I realized that it was not only his story he was telling, but Rosalie's as well. And from what I could glean, she wasn't pleased that I knew so much about her.

"So, Edward tells me you two grew up together? Isn't that a little… strange?" She asked around a mouthful of crab ravioli. Seeing his expression, Rosalie backtracked quickly. "I mean, he's so much older than you-"

"Seven years," Edward corrected, after chewing a bit of beef with little interest. "Seven years isn't that much of a gap. And besides, Isabella was taking care of me-"

_Cleaning up after you_, I thought resentfully.

"Since we were children," Edward continued.

"Our parents are- were- friends," I offered as a means of explanation, and Rosalie nodded.

"So, then, Isabella, what do your parents do?"

"They're dead," I said, and then realized I had probably said it far too casually. Edward hid a laugh behind his napkin as Rosalie choked on her champagne, clearly uncomfortable. I wasn't used to pussyfooting around- it was practically part of my job description that I be unapologetically blunt. I tried again, but felt a little less horrible when I saw Jasper fighting back a grin as he patted Rosalie on the back. "I mean, we… we weren't very close. I was surprised to hear that they had died."

"How did they-?"

"Renee was in a boating accident when I was seven," I said, and Edward, thankfully, kept his expression neutral. It wasn't so much a lie as it was a careful paraphrasing. I didn't want to go spilling out the word 'suicide' across the dinner table. I had quickly learned that there was no quicker way of ending conversation and burning bridges like bringing up that s word. "My father, Charlie, was police chief in his hometown. It's a small little place just outside of Seattle. There's usually very little crime, and what little there is usually drifts in from the coast or from the cities. But he died a hero."

"I- I'm so sorry," If beauty incarnate could look horribly uncomfortable, it would have been Rosalie Hale. I took a sip of the gin and tonic, resisting the urge to vomit across the table. Why had my parents come up? I hadn't thought of Renee in ages, and the thought of Charlie made me… uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Thank you," I replied somewhat lamely. I could feel Jasper's eyes on me as I attempted to fake eating, but I knew that I was done for the night. Edward masterfully steered conversation in a different direction, and I was surprised to feel his hand give a quick squeeze to mine. Before long, Jasper and Edward were involved in what I could only call a pissing contest as they argued over the massive cash injection that Jasper was apparently now reconsidering.

"Hale, you and I both know that this is the best investment you could possibly choose-"

"We both know it's the safest investment I could possibly choose," Jasper responded. Dessert, a wonderful mousse creation, lay forgotten on the table. I feared that Edward would have another lash of temper and upend the whole damn thing. They were almost nose-to-nose, though Rosalie didn't seem too bothered. She was checking her face in a small Chanel compact. I briefly wondered if she was a little dim.

"Right, well, you don't need another mark on your rap sheet," I said cheerfully to Edward, who ignored me. I pulled hard on his shirt and managed to hiss into his ear. "_Sit the fuck down before I have to bust your ass out of jail again. I am not fucking with you, Edward. Sit. The. Fuck. Down."_

There were very few moments when he listened to me, but he always chose to do so at the most opportune times. He sat the fuck down, and Jasper eventually sat the fuck down. Rosalie was still engrossed in her own reflection. It was hard to resent her- she was so beautiful I felt as though I would have done the same.

"I think we're done for tonight," Jasper announced. Edward stood before he did and passed off the Black Card before Jasper could say another word. I rolled my eyes. Much as I appreciated his domineering attitude in the boardroom, I downright loathed it at times.

"Good thing you aren't a politician," I shoved Edward as he headed towards the bathroom. "You would have started a world war ages ago."

"Are you really upset that I lost my temper?" Edward looked a little shocked as he ran a hand through his hair. I flashed him my pack of Marlboros, which I was trying to kick but found it impossible while under his employment, to show him exactly how upset I was. I turned on my heel before he could say another word, and soon found myself wrapped up in my coat as I smoked through my first Marlboro in a week. I fucking hated Parliaments.

"That's not good for you," Jasper pointed out, a cigarette clenched between his teeth as he emerged from the same back entrance of the restaurant I had used. I smiled despite myself and exhaled a smoke ring in his face. He was in an incredibly expensive-looking black wool coat with a high collar that he wore unbuttoned, his hands jammed in his pockets as he smoked. "Can I be honest with you?"

I nodded as I lit up my second.

"I've always thought Cullen was an asshole," Jasper grimaced as he tilted back his head and exhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring just slightly as his face was momentarily lost in a cloud of hazy smoke. I stared at him lazily, not bothering to make sense of his words. The long line of his throat, the sharp cut of his jaw- I found him more tempting than anyone I had ever seen.

Well, almost anyone.

"If my goddamn sister wasn't so infatuated with him, I suppose we'd have been at blows a long time ago," Jasper shrugged, seemingly unconcerned with Rosalie's self-titled 'infatuation'. Jasper took one look at my face, and his own crinkled into a smile. "Rosie's a big girl. She can handle herself."

I decided not to voice my opinion on that one. Whatever helped Jasper sleep at night, I supposed. Live and let live, and all that. I was thinking of lighting up a third when Jasper turned to me, his expression completely different from the one that he had had on his face while he mused beating Edward's face to a pulp.

"You and Cullen," Jasper paused, as though he really didn't want to know the answer. He winked, and I realized that he was both very tall and very close to me. His face could not have been more than two or three inches from mine. "It's not really my business, I suppose, but one is curious. I mean, everyone is curious-"

"Everyone-"

"Have you seen Aro Volturi's chief of staff, Marcus, I think it was? The man looks like the Crypt Keeper, and he doesn't do half the job you do," Jasper smiled, his voice lowering to a sweet murmur. "I won't care if you have. Hell, I'll be surprised if you haven't. I just, satisfying curiosity, you know. Sake of knowledge and all-"

Before I had any chance to regret it, before Jasper had any time to finish his question, I had closed the short space between us and was kissing him, fiercely, demandingly. For one terrifying second, Jasper's lips remained motionless against mine, and I had just a brief moment to let everything sink in. The smoky sweet peppermint on his breath, the softness of his hair between my fingers. And then, just as aggressively as I had attacked him moments before, his lips were everywhere. Tongues and teeth, smoke and gasps, needy hands that tugged on hair and pulled closer than we could ever be. I felt the hard exposed stones against my back as Jasper pushed me against the wall, not even letting me breathe as he continued his punishing pace. Right when I felt dizzy, from the smoke or from his tongue I don't know, Jasper's lips traveled seamlessly down my throat, his panting rough as he pushed himself against me, his free hand pulling roughly at my hair.

"I knew you hadn't," He whispered harshly against my collarbone as he nipped and sucked viciously. We both moaned, embarrassingly loudly, as he rocked against me. "I knew you hadn't. The way he fucking looked at you-"

I gave a sharp pull on his long blonde hair, partly because I wanted to kiss him again, mostly because I wanted him to shut the fuck up. I didn't want to get into this conversation, of whatever Jasper thought was going on between me and Edward. It worked, because almost immediately Jasper's insistent, hungry mouth was back on mine and his hands, groping but never clumsy, clawed a hot path up inside my coat. He continued to rock against me, more tantalizing promise than relief, and I felt, through the haze of pleasure and excitement and unbearable tension, that our moans and panting and quiet curse words and calls to God were so loud it would be impossible for the valet and waiting patrons just meters away to miss them.

Jasper's hand was dangerously high up my skirt, his free hand still gripping my hair and still devouring me with a seeming unending frenzy when his phone began to ring. Panting, he broke away, still rocking against me and letting his hand explore freely up the extent of my skirt as he reluctantly answered his phone.

"What?"

"Where the fuck are you?" Rosalie's voice, and her irritation, could be heard through the phone very clearly. I stifled a groan as Jasper reluctantly broke away from me.

"I went for a smoke. I'll meet you out front-"

I was interrupted from my frantic hair smoothing and clothes-straightening with a call.

"Hello?" I hoped my voice wasn't trembling. I hoped I sounded as cool and calm and collected as I needed to. Unlike Rosalie, Edward didn't curse or shout. I felt a terrible, cold feeling ball up in my stomach, erasing any of the warm pleasure Jasper had elicited seconds before. "Edward?"

"I'm going home," Edward's voice was deathly quiet and low. This was never a voice one wanted to be addressed in, and I was pretty sure dying would have been preferable to being addressed in this voice by Edward Cullen. "I called a car for you. You should head home. It's late."

"Edward-"

"I expect the EnCor files on my desk by tomorrow afternoon. No excuses," His voice was soft and had a bar of iron in it. I decided that now would not be the best time to mention it was Saturday tomorrow and one of the few days where I enjoyed my life.

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh, and Isabella? If I hear that anyone joins you in that car, I'll be extremely upset. And the loss of temper you so bemoaned in me tonight won't compare to what will be in store should I receive… unpleasant news. Understood?"

I felt my own temper flare up. Was my own boss trying to cockblock me?

"Edward, you listen to me, don't you think that just because you're my boss-"

"If I hear that Jasper Hale fucks you in that car tonight, assuming he hasn't already, I can guarantee that you'll regret it tomorrow, no matter how hard he can fuck or how big his cock is," Edward's voice was venomous now. I was struck dumb. "Don't test me on this, Isabella. Five PM, tomorrow."

I was still struck dumb as he hung up. I briefly wondered if Edward was truly insane. He had been domineering and controlling and fiercely possessive even in his childhood, but surely this… this couldn't be normal? I wondered again if he had ever threatened horror on any of his bedmates before. Jasper was standing, waiting, as I finally tore the phone from my ear and managed to pocket it.

"I'm so sorry darling. But Rosie's in a bit of a mood tonight-"

"No, I… Not at all," I managed, and Jasper smiled, looking more than a little upset.

"I'll see you again-"

"That's highly unlikely-

"I don't mean like this," Jasper said softly. "I never wanted to get started like this with you. My father is probably rolling in his grave right now, watching his only son throw years of hard-trained Southern etiquette quite literally into the gutter."

I laughed as Jasper caught my chin and gave me the sweetest, gentlest kiss I had ever had. Surprisingly, it brought tears to my eyes as he broke away and placed his lips against my forehead.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I have to work," I murmured regretfully as Jasper laughed bitterly against my forehead. He passed me his phone and I quickly entered my number. Before I could break away from him, I felt his hand slide into my pocket and retrieve mine. I watched, still in a bit of a daze, as he entered his own contact information.

"That wasn't necessary. I had yours-"

"You're not the kind of girl I'm willing to take that kind of gamble on, darling," Jasper said before he finally broke away. "You really think I'm going to sit wondering if the most beautiful girl in the world is going to remember to call me or not?"

I laughed at the absurdity of anyone being able to forget someone like Jasper Hale. With a final kiss and a hushed whispered promise, he was gone, and I found myself in the back of a familiar Lincoln, instructing the driver on my address.

_Well, _I thought to myself as I finally took off my shoes and collapsed against the door. Blaylock curled her long tail around my ankles while Mookie began to nestle at the top of my head. _That was better than pizza, anyways. _


End file.
